


at the garden.

by detectivekimball



Category: Mad Men
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Office Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 18:42:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4360112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detectivekimball/pseuds/detectivekimball
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>while the championship is decided down the street, Peggy finds a different performance down the hall. Takes place mid season 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	at the garden.

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't anticipate going down this particular avenue, but this sort of evolved from an idea about Don and Megan potentially getting caught in that small window after Lucky Strike bails out but before the Disneyland trip happens (about a month or two in the show's time, i believe?). 
> 
> i welcome any sort of comments. it's been a while since i've done this consistently and i can use all the help i can get. thanks for clickin', yo.

“You keep yapping your trap like this because you _know_ you don't have anything meaningful to say! It's like everyone in this office is walking around with nothing but antennas broadcasting negativity all the time! I mean, I get up every morning, I come in with a tie, I've bathed... I've _done_ my part! The least you people can do is try and make it so that I don't feel like taking a golf club and--”

And that's when Peggy Olson officially walked out of the creative office, leaving a thoroughly entertained Stan and a manic, enraged Ginsberg in her wake. Ginsberg had been trying to get something out of Stan about the new ideas for Topaz, but Stan had eaten an edible marijuana treat of some sort and had been useless all day (unless giggling and leering oddly at Peggy were beneficial somehow).

This was the new routine. This was the new dynamic. And it made Peggy want to fucking strangle someone with a pair of pantyhose.

Peggy was heading back towards her office, fumbling through her handbag for a loose cigarette when she literally ran into none other than an uncharacteristically dissheveled Don Draper. Locks of hair dangled freely in front of his face, and his face was deeply flushed.

“Whoa there.” Don said, smiling. “Eyes on the road, missy.”

The pet name annoyed her a litte, but Peggy would've been lying if she said she didn't enjoy the endearment just a little.

“Can I guess how Lucky Strike went?” Peggy said, unable to contain her amusement.

Don shrugged. “I guess we'll find out when the checks start coming in.” he said.

_Wow,_ Peggy thought, _when did drunk Don become so fun?_

“How's Topaz doing?” Don asked.

_Shit._

Then, before she could respond, Don jovially waved a hand. “Y'know what, don't worry about it. Let's give 'em the weeekend and make 'em sweat.”

He started to make his way down the hallway, but seemingly tripped over nothing into some filing cabinets. He steadied himself, chuckling knowingly, before continuing in smooth Draper-esqe fashion back to his office. Megan stood up to greet him, and even from where Peggy was standing, she could see her face lined with concern.

Peggy stared at this scene. It was more out of _her_ concern than anything else. She watched Don disappear inside his office with Megan right behind him, then caught Clara staring at her from her desk. She quickly straightened herself out and disappeared back into the creative pool. Which, surprisingly, was now calm and quiet with Stan and Ginsberg both writing in their notepads.

“Wasn't there an argument happening before I left?” Peggy asked rhetorically.

The corners of Ginsberg's mouth twitched as Stan tittered gleefully.

“He's so tense. Look at him.” Stan said, a pen loosely flopping behind his right ear. “You want some of my space cake? I still have half of it.”

Ginsberg looked physically ill. “I don't want any of your poison.” he said haugtily. “I just want to figure out the best way to sell nylons to old bats and go home.”

No one responded. They all wanted the same thing.

* * *

 

The next three hours were like pulling teeth. Even with a lunch break wedged in-between to dull the effects, Peggy still felt stifled and unproductive the entire day. It made her miss Freddie Rumsen just a little bit, and it made offers from rival agencies harder and harder to ignore. She'd tuck them in her kitchen cupboard as soon as he got them (almost shamefully), but this was well, honestly...

“Garbage.” Pete Campbell said, standing in the doorway of her office and breaking her out of the spell she was in at her desk.

Peggy took a beat, then quizzically: “Excuse me?”

“The creative room is filthy. I know it's not _you_ , but I'd appreciate it if you told your crew to keep things tidy.” Pete said haughtily.

Under normal circumstances, Peggy would've probably smiled and bit her tongue. Maybe she would've nodded too. But not today.

“I am _not_ a school marm. Tell them yourself.” she said, glaring.

Pete recoiled indignantly, but not _as_ indignantly as when Peggy was just some secretary.

“Sorry to have touched a nerve.” he said before exiting. Peggy blew a sigh. She had been batting at a potential idea for something, maybe it was another Topaz angle... but it was gone. Vapor. All that was left was air that Pete Campbell had polluted.

Peggy got up and, upon exiting her office, saw Don's ajar. Megan wasn't stationed out front and her things were gone even though it was just 5:35. She walked over, looking around almost sordidly if anyone else had noticed this fact, but she saw that (aside from Caroline stationed at the far end of the office) the hallway was relatively empty.

_Maybe a ballgame was on or something_ , Peggy thought curiously as she reached out to push Don's door open.

But that was before a moan that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up rang out from behind it.

Peggy froze, her mouth parting in reaction to this wreckless disregard of office volume. Fainter than the woman's moan, Don chuckled dirtily and whispered something. She strained to catch the end of it before she realized it was a hasty “ _Gottabequiet”_.

Peggy once again scanned the office. Still, no one threatened to bother this display. It was almost comical, Peggy thought, before another sound of pleasure (more of an “ _Mmmmm.”_ ) escaped from Don's office.

Her eyes darted to the slither in the door. She swallowed, newfound adrenaline creeping into her system. And, without thinking about the consequences or what she would've done in the past, she looked through the crack in the door.

Don's head was tucked in-between the slender, porcelian thighs of a woman whose face Peggy couldn't see, as her head was resting on the wall where the door was. He ate hungrily, eliciting harried whimpers from the mystery girl. His hands gripped and pawed her ass with a notable ferocity.

Peggy swallowed again as she denied the faintest hint of wetness beginning to form underneath her panties. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the sheer wrecklessness that she was witnessing, or maybe it was just the irreststable, almost aching French that the girl was muttering, but...

_Wait._

_She's speaking French._

_It's... Megan?_

The thought process came lightning quick, but Peggy didn't react to it. She was still invested in the sight before her.

Then, from behind her, like a splash of ice cold water:

“See somethin' you like in there?”

Peggy turned around, her intensifying arousal colliding with abject horror. Roger Sterling, also clearly inebriated and in a pastel blue suit, stood there smirking with his hands in his pockets.

“What?” Peggy asked, trying not to faint from embarrassment.

“I could hear them from _my_ office.” Roger said pointedly. “They're lucky Torres and Pestrano are fighting at the Garden tonight. Otherwise, the noises might've made Harry Crane come in his pants.”

Peggy snorted at Roger's bold-faced crudeness. Roger looked around much like Peggy did earlier, then leaned in. “Do you know who that _is_ in there?” he asked. Peggy leaned in a little too, and told Roger with a smirk. Roger shook his head in disbelief.

“That son of a bitch.” Roger said, then laughed. “What a business we're in, huh?”

And, with that, Roger turned the corner and headed back to his office.

Peggy was already watching again before he had even made it halfway there.

 


End file.
